A Dragon's Lullaby
by BucketsofButterflies
Summary: An AU in which Rynne (female avatar), Chrom, and all the Shepherds meet as children long before the Mad King declares war on Ylisse. Also, Rynne suffers from a touch of dracothropy and is subject to grow scales, wings, and such. She hopes to grow out of this one day. #Chrobin #Very, very sloooooow burn.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own Fire Emblem. Fire Emblem belongs to Intelligent Systems. Any ensuing weirdness is probably mine-even the** **were-dragon.**

* * *

It was the eve before Robin's birthday, and Rynne was determined to find him the perfect story.

It would have to be an old one, like the tales their mother used to tell them when they were small enough to need a story to chase away the shadows lurking in the night.

In that vein, it also had to have dragons.

Not the tame manaketes who hid their strength in their special stones. Not the wyverns who could only _wish_ they were dragons. No, Robin's story would have to have proper dragons. The kind who belched fire and poisonous vapors, and who made the earth tremble wherever they walked upon it.

The kinds of dragons who got stuff done. Who went on adventures and did things so wondrous that ballads and legends sprouted at their feet like desert flowers.

But nothing old and stuffy like all the historical texts Robin had to learn better than his own name. Nor the ones who managed to turn the wonder of dragons into something staid, lofty, and . . . boring.

How those authors managed to make dragons dull was a mystery. Usually, though, those kinds of dragons just sat around looking noble and wise—collecting dust because even domesticated dragons were far too fierce for any maidens to wish to keep house for them.

She pulled the tiny scroll Robin had given her out of her sleeve and studied the shapes of the words he'd written. As a servant, she'd never been taught to read, but she could remember the words her brother had explained well enough.

That longer word there with the spiky tail and all the sharp edges and corners was _dragon_. The smaller word that stood straight and tall was _hero_. And the bulky one that seemed like it couldn't make up its mind as to whether it would be all sleek curves or blocky stems was the word for _magical talismans_.

"Hmm." Rynne held up the scroll to a book that one of Henry's ravens was nudging with its beak. That one had _hero_ and _magic_ , but no _talismans_ or _dragons_. It might have done, had this been anything other than a present for her older brother. But it wasn't, and she shook her head.

"Dragons." She pointed at the spiky word. "It has to have dragons."

The raven bent down, cocked its head to the side, and made a show of studying the scroll. Then it gave her a look that was only slightly reproachful before it spread its wings and went in search of more fitting stories.

The two of them—at least she thought it was just the two of them. With ravens, you never could be too sure—spent the rest of the evening flitting from booksellers to scroll keepers until they'd covered every shop at the market place and a few that hidden behind other stalls.

It wasn't until the sun was streaking fire into the horizon that Rynne and the raven found what she was looking for. The book was half hidden beneath cheap trinkets that were already speckled with a greenish sheen. The cover was battered, and the vermillion color had faded into a shadow of its former glory, but right across the top, in gilded letters nearly too fancy to be spiky, was the word she'd been hoping for.

 _Dragons_.

This book had dragons in it.

"How much?" She asked primly, a handful of coppers clutched in her fist.

The merchant glanced at her, hair as bright as a fire lily and a gleam in her eye that made Rynne nervously wonder if she'd been able to save up enough coppers.

"You have a good eye for quality." The merchant picked up the book and held it flat on her palm as if she were weighing its heft. "Hmm, not exactly light reading, is it?"

Rynne fidgeted. Now that she was looking, the book had a lot of heft. It didn't help that the merchant's eyes suddenly gleamed like gold.

"This is a rare, one-of-a-kind, limited edition special. I'd say it's worth at least . . . five gold?"

The raven, who had been investigating some of the shinier baubles on the table, squawked something that sounded impolite and shook its feathers.

"Hey now!" The merchant frowned as she put one hand on her hip. "I'm an Anna. There's no way I'd be caught cheating my customers!"

The raven cawed something that sounded suspiciously like laughter while Rynne gazed at the book wistfully. If her mother had allowed her to be an ordinary servant, she might have saved up enough gold—if she'd been hoarding it away a few years before she'd been born. Not even Robin had that much coin to spend.

"Of course I'm heartless! A merchant's belly isn't filled with good deeds, and I certainly can't add to my . . . collection if I'm an easy mark." The Anna shrugged at Rynne. "Sorry, kiddo. I've a business to run. If you're looking for charity, you might try—"

"What about this?" Rynne didn't remember reaching into her bag and pulling out the flax thread she'd spun earlier that day. The special thread woven into linen that was for the king's use only. It was just suddenly there in her hand, and judging by the way the Anna's eyes were bulging, it would be more than enough to cover the cost of the book.

"Is that really the Plegian Royal Silk?" The Anna held it up to the dying light of day and squinted at it as though reading all its secrets. "How did a little ragamuffin like you get your hands on some of Plegia's national treasure?"

"It's flax thread, not silk," Rynne informed her with professional pride. "And I didn't get it from anywhere. I spun that myself."

The look of disbelief on the Anna's face was just this side of insulting. With visible effort, she waved the bobbin, not quite willing to put it down. "Sure you did, kid."

An indignant scarlet flamed itself across Rynne's cheeks. "I did so!"

"Yeah?" The Anna leaned forward. "Then you wouldn't have any trouble proving it, would you? Don't get me wrong." She made a placating gesture with her empty hand. "I want to believe you, but I'm a businesswoman first and foremost. I can't sell knock-offs, not when my reputation guarantees that my customers are getting authentic goods at the lowest prices on the entire continent."

Rynne looked at the book, fixing it to her will. She'd have to work twice as hard tomorrow to make up for the thread she was going to use in place of gold, but this was for Robin. He'd given her a lifetime of stories. Now it was her turn to give him something for a change.

Besides, he needed more dragons in his life.

She pulled her distaff and spindle out of the bag she had slung across her body. The Anna's eyes lit up as she took in how much of the thread was still on the spindle. Fixing the bottom of the distaff into the far corner of her bag, Rynne got it comfortably in place. Satisfied, she pulled out a small pot of mucilage and set it near the edge of the Anna's wares.

"So, uh, how much thread do you think you could spin from that?" the Anna asked, drumming her fingers on the table.

Rynne narrowed her eyes as she wetted her fingers and began to spin the spindle. "A fair bit. Why?"

"I was thinking that you have your heart set on this book." The Anna pouted her lips in what Rynne supposed was to be a sympathetic look, but it only made her look crafty. "And as a merchant, I have my heart set on gold. Yet here we are. At an impasse."

Rynne rolled her eyes. With only eight autumns to her name, she might have been inexperienced, but she wasn't stupid. "I thought you just wanted me to prove that I had spun the thread."

The Anna waved a hand. "Not for me. For my customers' peace of mind. The 'A' in Anna stands for _authentic_ , after all."

Rynne eyed the pile of gaudy-looking rings and necklaces that mingled among the Anna's wares. She had overheard some of the servants talking about trinkets like these. They were made from cheap metals that were like as not to turn your finger green if you wore them over the course of a day. The Anna's trinkets hadn't waited for even a single finger before they'd started to blush a greenish-blue hue.

If they were authentic, then she was a speckled manakete.

The Anna, perhaps noting her expression and sudden interest in the trinkets, waved a protective hand over her wares. "Verdigris is what's fashionable right now. It's how you let others know you've enough money to collect heirlooms and antiques without having to say a single word."

People were often silly, but Rynne had a hard time believing they were _that_ silly.

The raven cawed something impolite before it flew over and perched on Rynne's head. She fluffed its feathers absentmindedly, belatedly remembering the mucilage on the tips of her fingers. The raven retaliated by nibbling on a lock of her hair.

Rynne slipped the distaff and spindle back into her bag. "I don't need any of that. All I want is the book." She gave the bobbin in the Anna's hand a pointed look. "How much?"

Despite the greed practically glowing in the Anna's eyes, she held the bobbin up once more as she pretended to scrutinize it. "That book is a top of the line antique. How about you give me everything that's on this bobbin?"

Even though she couldn't see the raven, Rynne tipped her head back to look up. Henry's ravens weren't typical birdbrains, and this particular one had a love for golden shiny things that was rivaled only by the Anna.

"Well?"

The raven fluffed its feathers as it thought and made creaking sounds like a hinge in want of some oil.

"Are you really taking shopping advice from a bird?" The Anna frowned as she side-eyed the raven in question.

Henry's ravens got a lot of that, so she was used to it by now. Rynne shrugged. "I don't like haggling."

"Then don't." The Anna was smiling now. She held up the bobbin. "I'm ready to make the trade any time you are."

"Huh."

The Anna blinked at her. "What do you mean, 'huh'?"

Rynne carefully counted the number of creaks the raven made. Then waited patiently as it tapped her head gently with its foot.

"It seems like the amount of that thread is worth three and a half kings' ransoms."

"Three and a half?" The Anna scoffed. "How do you only pay half a king's ransom? What happened to the other half?"

"It's with the half of the king that didn't get ransomed," Rynne replied without thinking. Henry had told her a joke along similar lines before, and it had taken her a few hours to work out. Robin, of course, had understood right away and snorted—as he always did to jokes he was supposed to be old enough to no longer find amusing.

"The half of the—" The Anna trailed off, giving her an odd look. "But wouldn't it be with the—you know what? Never mind. Do we have a deal or not?"

The raven made a few more creaking noises before falling silent.

Rynne chewed on her bottom lip. She really did hate haggling.

But this was for Robin.

"That book is only worth half a king's ransom. What about the other three?"

The Anna gaped at her before shooting a very unloving look at the raven perched in Rynne's hair.

"You're going off the word of a bird?"

Rynne nodded gravely. This wasn't any ordinary bird, but one of Henry's ravens. They had never failed her before, and weren't likely to start now. If it said the book was worth only half a king's ransom, then that's what it was worth.

"Your bird must be defective, because I can assure you this book is worth more that it might appear. Look at the leather tooling, not to mention the leather itself. It's seventy-five percent authentic dragon 's at least two and a quarter kings' ransoms right there."

The raven didn't say anything, but Rynne could practically feel the glower it was giving the Anna.

"It's not defective." She glanced at the book. It was perfect because it had dragons in it, but it most definitely wasn't the only book to have dragons in it.

If only Robin's birthday was a little further off.

She gestured to the bobbin. "You agree that's worth three and a half kings' ransoms?"

"Yes," the Anna said through her teeth. Her smile had become so brittle that Rynne half expected it to crumble away any moment now.

"It was the raven who said it was worth that much. So if it isn't wrong there, it isn't going to be wrong in regard to the book." Though her heart felt like breaking, she stood firm.

The dragons in that book better be giant, fire-breathing, and motivated to do great deeds.

The look on the Anna's face was an interesting mixture of greed and indignation. And although the denial formed on her lips, in the end she couldn't lie.

Interesting.

Rynne had often snuck away to the village when her chores were done, so she knew what to do next. She held out her hand.

"Please give my thread back to me."

The Anna clutched the bobbin to her heart. "Wait. I'm sure there's some way for us to come to an agreement."

Rynne shook her head. "I'm sorry. I never should have offered it. It'd be both our heads if anyone ever found out."

To her surprise, her words only made the Anna tighten her grip on the bobbin.

"Well, see, that just makes it interesting."

Rynne furrowed her brow. This wasn't the sort of conversation she'd overheard before when she was people-watching. Was the Anna really as crazy as she sounded?

Rynne shivered. The sun had almost fallen completely away, leaving the world cloaked in the pearly gray of twilight. She'd have to hurry if she wanted to give Robin his gift tonight.

"I'm sorry, but I have to be go—"

"You drive a hard bargain for someone who can barely see over the counter." The Anna narrowed her eyes, and Rynne could almost hear the clink of gold while she worked out the sum in her head.

"Tell you what, you give me this bobbin of thread and I give you the book and one favor."

Rynne took heart when the raven didn't so much as twitch or make a sound.

"The book and three favors," she said, mimicking the tone of finality she'd watched countless mamas and servants use when they'd gained the upper hand. "I'll need the bobbin back as well."

"Th-three favors?" The Anna's eye twitched. "Do you have any idea how much one favor is worth? I'll give you a hint: it's big enough to fit all three and a half kings' ransoms in it and a hundred more like them."

Rynne pretended to think. From what she had observed from the most successful mamas, the brow had to furrow just right. The angle she tilted her head mattered too. Go too far in one direction, and the merchants lost all respect for you. Too far in the other, and you gave yourself away.

"Can any of those favors bring a person back from the dead?"

The Anna blinked slowly. "Not to my knowledge. Why?"

Rynne flexed the fingers on the hand she'd extended. "I'd like the king's bobbin back."

"Two favors! The book and two favors!" By now it had become evident that it would take an act of Grima to separate the Anna from the thread. Rynne could always find another book with dragons, but where else was the Anna going to find the king's thread, let alone an entire bobbin full of it?

Night had begun to fall in earnest now, and all the other shops had closed up for the day. If she didn't return soon, not only would she miss the small window of time to deliver Robin's birthday present, but she'd end up having to do extra chores to make up for coming in late.

And she already had two bobbin-fulls of flax to spin on the morrow.

She folded her arms. " _Three_ favors. And the book."

"I need a minute." The Anna narrowed her eyes as she turned away. "It's not like I just leave favors lying around."

Rynne huffed an irritated sigh, but nodded. Every second that passed already felt like a small eternity—especially once the light had gone completely from the sky. Why was the Anna dragging things out when they could have been finished ages ago?

Her skin prickled against the night air, and she absently scratched her arm. What if she didn't make it back in time? Or worse, what if Robin had already gone to sleep by the time she arrived?

Worst of all: what if her mother found out she'd strayed out into the village?

Rynne shivered at the thought.

It was in that moment, when she'd huddled against the dark uncertainty of her fears, that she noticed a patch of scales breaking out along her arm.

Blood draining from her face, Rynne tugged ineffectually at her sleeve, and ended up having to settle with rearranging her cloak to hide her arm.

She glanced anxiously around, but the market was all but deserted. Surely no one could have seen anything.

Right?

A light breeze blew past her then, its cold fingers sweeping across her cheeks. The sensation made more scales break out along her arms.

Rynne frowned at the small covered wagon the Anna had disappeared into. What was taking her so long anyway? And how, exactly, was she going to keep her end of the deal?

Just as her heartbeat started pounding along her temples, the Anna hopped out of the wagon, a bright smile on her face.

"All right. I think I've settled all the accounts satisfactorily." She plunked the book, the empty bobbin, and three colorful scraps of paper into Rynne's arms.

Rynne managed not to drop anything, but only just. Her scales glimmered in the starlight, but the Anna didn't seem to notice. Heart fluttering in her throat, she glowered at the merchant.

"What do you mean?"

The Anna looked far too cheerful as she pointed to the scraps of paper. "Those are the favors I owe you. Just think of them as I.O.U.s. You're free to redeem them during normal business hours, so long as you submit a written request five business days prior. I reserve the right to have all bank and national holidays off, as well as every second Thurs—"

They both looked at the hand Rynne had slammed down on the table. And at the talons glittering with starlight where her nails used to be. She wanted to pull back her hand and then run and hide. But where would she run? And how could she hide? There were only a few people capable of spinning the thread as it should be, and she was one of them.

"Uh, anything amiss? Because I can tell you that this is the best offer you're going to get, hands down." The Anna winced, but stood firm.

Something between temper and terror loosened Rynne's tongue.

"Those aren't favors. They're just a list of exemptions."

"I'll have you know that those are one hundred percent, bona fide—"

"Unless you're willing to abide by the same terms with the thread."

The Anna goggled with her mouth open long enough to leave an impression of a fish before she snapped it shut.

Rynne drew in a deep breath. The width of her courage was starting to crumble.

But she didn't hide her hand.

Nor run away.

In the end, it was the Anna who broke first.

"Fine, but you should be sure of what you're asking for. Believe it or not, I'm trying to help you. Anna Favors have been known to burn down mountains, dry up seas, and there was one memorable moment when a single favor worded incorrectly rewrote an entire civilization."

Rynne was too busy pretending to be brave to pay proper attention to the warning.

"What I'm trying to say is that a favor from me is power, and power isn't really a tame thing that meekly does what it's told to do. Not even I can control it once the favor's been released."

Rynne kept her gaze on her arm. Was it possible that one of the favors could remove the curse that had plagued her for as long as she could remember?

She raised her head and stared firmly at the Anna. Something prickled on either side of her temples, but she ignored it. The Anna was a hundred times more slippery than a fish, and she had to pay careful attention to make sure the deal was fair.

"I want proper favors or none at all."

The Anna heaved a sigh. "Well, you can't say I didn't warn you, kid. One last chance to back out before your fate is sealed. No? All right then. Hold still. This might . . . sting a little."

Raising her hand, the Anna said something in a language Rynne had never heard before. But before she could get too tangled up in the unfamiliar sounds, a speck of light formed on the tip of the Anna's finger. In a way Rynne couldn't explain, the speck seemed to absorb the starlight all around them until it had grown plump enough to be a drop of dew. The Anna repeated the words two more times until a total of three beads of light rested just above her fingers.

Rynne held her breath as the air around them condensed into something thick and heavy. The Anna's hands moved with a steady grace as she twisted and pushed the air into something that held no shape, only intent.

A small eternity later, the Anna nodded with satisfaction before jabbing Rynne's forehead with the three fingers dancing with light.

The magic snapped at Rynne, hot and snarled like a briar of man-eating thorns. She gritted her teeth against the pain as what felt like three individual suns jostled against each as they forced their mass to conform to hers.

Just when she almost couldn't bear it, when she'd started to come apart at the seams, the lights vanished with a final slurping sound and settled somewhere right above her heart.

The Anna, pale and drawn, managed a grim smile as Rynne blinked the spots out of her vision.

"Take care and don't call up a favor unless you really need to use one. And if you have to ask yourself if you need one, then you most definitely do not."

"Thank you," Rynne breathed, her voice inflecting at the last second, turning her gratitude into a question.

"Ha. We'll see if you're still thanking me after all this is said and done."

The Anna waved her hand in the air, making a sharp twisting motion. The table she'd used to display her wares jolted as if struck by Lightning. It shook itself out before swiftly packing up and loading everything—including itself—into the wagon.

Rynne goggled at the Anna. The merchant hadn't used a tome, nor did she appear to have any sort of magical talisman.

The Anna caught her stare and winked at her. "All sales are final."

She should hurry home. She knew she should. Yet Rynne couldn't help but ask, "How did you do that?"

"Trade secrets are not up for negotiation or for sale." The Anna gave her a sly grin before jumping up into the driver's seat of the wagon. "But let's just say that was someone who owed me one."

Surprise—and a dollop of fear—shot through Rynne's center. The raven on her head launched itself off her head in a shower of feathers and indignant squawks.

By the time Rynne's heart had recovered, the Anna was long gone.

The Anna's words weighed on her soul. Round stones inscribed with runes to make them heavier. Rynne reached up to brush her fingers against the center of her forehead where the Anna had buried the three favors.

While a little craggier than usual, the spot mostly felt as it always had. And if it weren't for the book and the empty bobbin, Rynne would have thought she'd been dreaming again.

And even then, the more she thought about it, the more dream-like the memory became.

 _Caw! Caw-ca-Caw!_ The raven circled her overhead, its rough voice forcing Rynne back into the present.

The present!

She had Robin's present!

A surge of joy replaced her earlier worries, making it easy to forget about everything but getting back in time to deliver Robin's present.

The raven kept her company as they hurried along the night-dark streets. The air was cool, and everything seemed impossibly still. It was as though she alone was left in the world.

 _CAW!_

Her and the raven, that is.

In what seemed like no time at all, she had reached the side entrance into the palace grounds that was reserved for the servants. Hardly daring to hope that she might pass through without getting caught, Rynne slowed her steps and forced her breaths to become light and soft.

Any guards that would have been posted would likely be mages as well. As one of the few people in the castle who didn't have even the smallest magical ability, Rynne had learned early on how to slip between the moments when the guards were actively paying attention.

One breath out.

Slip through on a diagonal.

One breath in.

And done.

She took a few calming breaths while she waited for the right moment to move. None of the guards were visible, of course, but she knew from past experience there would likely be two. One on either side of the entrance.

Just as she lifted her foot, an icy kind of dread shivered up her spine. Rynne froze, not even daring to breathe.

"Forgetting something?" The voice slipped like velvet into the night, oddly reminiscent of the palace cats.

Rynne sighed and dropped her foot back to the ground. The only reason that particular mage would be present was because Rynne was planning on visiting her brother.

How Tharja always found out beforehand was anyone's guess, but she always did, and always would.

"What do you mean?" It was hard to keep her breathing even, especially when Rynne realized that Tharja's question could be a whole lot more than mere coincidence.

The empty space in her bag where the day's thread ought to have been felt painfully conspicuous. But there was no way Tharja could see through her bag, was there?

Tharja smirked at her before tapping her on either side of the head. "It would appear that you've gone the way of the dragon while you were out."

Rynne flipped her hood up and over her head before she checked. Sure enough, a pair of small bumps protruded out of each temple.

When had she grown them?

Worse, had the Anna seen them?

Tharja chuckled low and deep—the exact same laugh a shadowmire made when it had grown large enough to eat unwary children. "It's a shame you have to hide them. They're adorable. Truly."

Rynne sighed. She could almost feel each second dropping away until the sunrise.

"How can I help you this time?" She'd already lost so much time just coming back, but bartering with Tharja always had a way of being inevitable.

To her surprise, Tharja shook her head. "Today's your lucky day. Just be sure to see your brother before the sun rises."

"A-all right." Rynne shifted her weight from foot to foot, feeling strangely off kilter. Was this a trap of some kind? And if it was—

"What are you still doing here then?" Tharja hissed something that caused a small whorl of shadow and night to appear before them. "Next time I won't be so accommodating."

"T-thank you. I think."

The older girl flicked her fingers out. "Whatever. Just begone."

The edges of the portal shimmered before beginning to shrink. With no time to lose, and no thoughts to spare, Rynne dove through it.

She landed in an untidy heap, her cheek squashed against the cold marble of the floor. But luckily no one seemed to have noticed her precipitous entrance. The room she'd landed in was empty, save for the shadows and the moonlight pouring through an entire wall that had been fashioned out of glass.

As she got to her feet, the portal had shrunk so much that the only thing she could see on the other side was the silver crescent of Tharja's grin.

And then something small and dark fell through the portal. The amorphous blob she picked up turned out to be a length of ribbon.

"Make sure you tie up your tail before you go any further. The servants make the ravens look refined."

With that last bit of advice, the portal snapped itself out of existence.

* * *

A/N: This is part of a story that's been banging away in the back of my head for about half a year or so. The Robin in FRACTURED is not the same character as the RYNNE in this story. Neither story is connected to the other.

So. This is going to be a story that takes place when all the characters are children. Emm will have only been on the throne for about six years. Gangrel hasn't quite flipped his lid yet, and Rynne is eight while Chrom and her brother Robin are ten. Robin will be in the story here and there, and they are not twins. And Robin won't make it to Ylisse (at least this is the plan. My characters have a horrible habit of upending my plans whenever they feel like it. T-T) until near the end of the story when he loses his memory and wakes up in the middle of a field.

The updating schedule won't be a schedule at all. My first priority will be to post one chapter of FRACTURED every other Friday. LULLABY will likely be posted once a month on average. It'll just depend on what's going on in Real Life. But, like FRACTURED, I will finish the story. Enjoy!


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own Fire Emblem. Fire Emblem belongs to Intelligent Systems and Nintendo.**

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By the time Rynne stood outside her brother's door, she was out of breath and her heart was pounding so hard that she was certain someone would hear it.

But she was here.

Sunrise hadn't happened yet.

And, she clutched the book to her chest, she had the perfect birthday present for her brother.

Rynne glanced over her shoulder, hardly daring to breathe, before she eased the door open and slipped through.

"You made it." Robin grinned his lopsided grin at her. He was sitting at his desk where he'd learned all the histories of every dragon kind. Where he'd riddled through the ancient books that smelled of charred leather.

But he wasn't reading anything, and the lack of ink splotches on his cheek meant he hadn't been scrawling down anything in that secret book of his he kept hidden inside one of his spare boots.

Rynne hurried over to him, mindful of her tail. Tying it up had been harder than she thought, and so she had only been partially successful.

Beaming up at him, she handed him his present. "I'm sorry it took me so long, but I found it. For you! Happy birthday!"

Robin blinked at the cover. The candles flickering on his desk made the faded gold on some of the letters gleam. He read the title slowly, going over each letter with care.

"Where did you find this?" he asked in wonderment.

Rynne grinned and rocked on her heels. It wasn't often she could really surprise her brother. "One of Henry's ravens helped me find it at market. And it wasn't easy, not with that Anna—"

Robin's gaze cut across to hers. "You got this from an Anna?"

She nodded, pleased when he grinned at her.

"Then it's perfect."

She had only just puffed up a little with pride before he squinted at her. He reached out and gingerly ran a thumb across one of nubs on her forehead that would grow into proper horns if left to their own devices.

"Does she know—the Anna, I mean. Does she know that you can do this?"

Rynne shrugged and pushed away her brother's hand. "I don't think so. But even if she did, who's going to believe her? People don't turn into dragons."

The ghost of a smile rested in the corner of Robin's mouth. "Manaketes do."

"I'm not a manakete," she said, primly smoothing her tunic.

"But what if you were?" Robin put his new book on his desk and leaned toward her, strangely intense. Like he was waiting for something, but she had no idea what.

Rynne just shook her head and laughed. "I'm not old enough to be a manakete."

"They all have to start somewhere."

"But I don't have one of their magic rocks." Rynne jutted her chin out. Why was her brother being so silly? There were too many wyverns near the castle for even the bravest of manaketes to even consider nesting here.

"Hmmm."

"I don't! And if I did, if I was, I would take you and mother, and we could go live in the mountains instead of here." This had been a dream she'd dreamed for as long as she could remember.

Their father had died one night, their mother had said, of a broken heart. A dream he'd been waiting for his entire life had turned to ashes and smoke in the time it took to release one breath and breathe in another.

That was why they were servants in the castle. To repay some debt their father owed. Only one of the higher Grimleal had seen the spark of magic in Robin's eyes, which was why he got to read as much as he liked, and why she and her mother worked out of sight of the others. They were too common, without even an ember of magic between the two of them.

"Really? You would?" Robin was watching her carefully as he always did when his hopes got away from him.

Rynne nodded, tracing the grain of his desk with her finger. "Anywhere you wanted to go, I could fly us there."

"Then I promise to do everything I can to make your dream come true."

"You can't train to be a manakete. You either are or you're not." Rynne frowned. It had hurt more than she'd let on a few years back when she'd learned once and for all that she couldn't be a manakete when she grew up. At best, she'd be only half a dragon, and where was the use in that?

Better to be a whole human than two halves of different things that would never add up.

Robin crooked his mouth to the side as he fiddled with a small bundle wrapped in a dour black cloth. "Sometimes things that seem impossible turn out to be possible in the long run. Putting your whole self into trying is a kind of magic of itself."

"If you say so." Long experience had taught Rynne the exact opposite. Putting your whole self into anything only led to weird draconic transmutations. She grimaced at the memory of the potion she would have to take to make her extra appendages disappear.

"This is for you." Robin swept the bundle off the desk and held it out to her like one of the ancient ones bestowing a dragon's gift upon a worthy servant. He dangled it just beyond reach. "Don't open this until tomorrow. Promise."

Rynne held out her pinkie and waited until her brother had locked his around hers. "I won't. What's in it anyway?"

Robin gusted a sigh as he relinquished the prize. "If I wanted you to know what was in it right now, I wouldn't have wrapped it up and told you to wait until tomorrow."

"But it's _your_ birthday." Rynne gestured to the dragon book.

For some reason, most of the light went out of Robin's eyes. "I know, but you're the only little sister I have, and I wanted to make something special for you too."

"You made it?" She examined the bundle a little more critically. As much as she loved her brother, he was far better at magic than he was at making things. But as her fingers curved around it, she smiled as she realized at least part of the package was a book. "Will you teach me more words?"

Robin laughed softly and tousled her hair. "One day I'll teach you to read hundreds of thousands of words."

"Really?" Rynne's thoughts staggered at the idea of so many words. So very many wonderful, marvelous words. If she knew that many, then she could be just like her brother.

That was her other big, impossible dream. To one day grow up to be exactly like Robin. She grimaced at his tendency to eat his food without removing the peel first, so maybe not exactly like Robin.

But close.

"Really." He gave her a light hug before tugging one of her pigtails.

"Hey!"

Before she could retaliate, he tossed a small vial to her that was filled with what tasted like bitter death and despair.

"Better hurry and drink that. Mother will be looking for you soon."

Grimacing, Rynne upended the vial into her mouth. No matter how fast she was, the sludge-like potion insisted on coating everything it passed on the way down to her stomach. It smelled like bog water, and tasted a hundred times worse.

"Bleh!"

Robin turned away, his movements careful and precise. "Tell mother I love her when you see her."

Rynne shuddered as her horns, scales, and tail slowly retracted. Repelled by the vile potion, no doubt.

"Why can't you tell her yourself?"

Robin didn't look at her. Instead, he traced his finger along the lettering of his new birthday present. "I have to do some additional training, so it'll be hard to sneak away any time soon."

Though the potion had distracted her at first, Rynne could tell something was wrong with her brother. He was normally quiet, but if you mentioned any topic he was interested in, he would talk both your ears off before he remembered himself. And while he smiled as he always did, there was something about his smile tonight that was different.

Any grudge she might have felt over the potion vanished. Rynne darted forward and gave her brother a hug. "All right, but only because you asked me to."

Then, because Robin had been right—their mother would be looking for her any moment now, she dashed away, running full tilt to her own quarters. That side of the castle had more servants, but fewer guards, and servants running down the corridors was hardly unheard of, so no one paid her any heed.

She had only just darted into her own room and crashed into her sleeping pallet before she heard her mother's voice through the parchment thin walls. Doing her best to slow her breathing, Rynne turned over to face the wall. She slipped the gift from her brother into her bag before cuddling it close.

"Rynne?" her mother called as she twitched aside the tattered cloth that served as a door. "It's time to be up and about, love."

Rynne yawned and stretched, pretending to rub the sleep from her eyes. "Already?"

"Already." Her mother pursed her mouth before setting two heaping bags of flax on the little table that was the only furniture in the room. The table wobbled a little, but the legs didn't break.

"Wha-why is there so much today?" Rynne jumped to her feet, forgetting that she was supposed to still be waking up.

Her mother gave her a sharp look that was only slightly softened by the smile tucked into the corner of her mouth. "You aren't the only one who can understand what the birds say."

The blood drained from Rynne's face, and a horrible knot clenched itself in her gut. "So, you, ah, know?" She shifted nervously from foot to foot without quite being able to meet her mother's eye.

"Indeed."

When her mother said nothing more, Rynne dared to sneak a peak, only to yelp as her mother pulled her into a tight hug.

"You're going to have to spin twice as fast," she murmured. "And twice as well."

Rynne nodded, speechless. Mother didn't usually hug her, and she never hugged Robin. Why was everyone acting to oddly this morning?

Oh. Speaking of Robin . . .

"Robin says he loves you."

Her mother's breath hitched and she held Rynne for a few seconds more before she let go and stepped back.

"It needs to be finished by suppertime." Her mother waited for her to nod before she hurried away to carry out her own duties.

Rynne frowned as she ignored the grumbling in her stomach to get started on her spinning for the day. She dipped her fingers in her small pot of mucilage and began adding twist to the fibers.

Robin never asked her to pass messages on to their mother. Occasionally he'd ask her to deliver a page from a story he was writing, but never more than that.

She'd once tried to decipher one of his written missives, but there was a distinct lack of dragons, and all of the other words seemed to twist in on themselves, unwilling to give up their secrets. When she'd asked her mother what the story was about, her mother had gotten this odd look in her eye. Like she was staring at a dream nestled against the horizon.

It was nothing, she'd said. Just a pretty fairy tale meant to help her while away the hours that much faster.

Rynne dipped her fingers again, spinning her thoughts along the length of the thread that she was rapidly spooling around the spindle.

There was something . . . something small . . . something . . .

. . . Just something hidden there that she couldn't quite make out.

Robin had never given her a present as grand as a book of her own before. His presents had always been small. A quiet spell tucked here, another one tucked there. A bright flower. The skeleton of a leaf. Nothing that anyone else would notice for the treasures that they were.

And both of them had been so very sad. Robin would never admit it, and their mother would simply ignore any questions she might ask, but they couldn't hide the sheen in their eyes or the way their faces bunched up like they were eating something sour.

Her thoughts continued to spin in that direction while her spindle became heavier and heavier with thread.

But it wasn't until she had to transfer the thread from the spindle to a bobbin that Rynne's thoughts circled back to the present hiding in her bag.

Her movements stilled with her awareness. He'd given her a riddle and made her promise not to open it until the morrow.

Which left a single burning question: had she promised last night or early this morning?

What was so important about waiting until the next day anyway?

As each thought began to pile upon its neighbor, Rynne darted a glance at her bag. Then she shook her head and wetted her fingers once more.

She had promised her brother—and not just any promise either—and she didn't want to let him down. And while she _might_ have been crossing her fingers on the other hand, it didn't feel right to go back on her word.

Sighing, she picked up her spindle, drafted a bit of the flax, and continued to spin.

It was going to be a long day.

* * *

The light from the window slanted into her room. Gone was the cheerful yellow of the morning. Now the light was stained a deep vermillion as she reached for some flax, only to find nothing but air and a few loose fibers clinging to her distaff.

Rynne blinked stupidly at the two fat bobbins and her spindle as she flexed her aching fingers. Her stomach had gone from grumbling to snarling at her with needle-sharp teeth. It was only when she glanced out the window and took note of the sun tumbling toward the horizon that Rynne realized she hadn't eaten anything the entire day.

Her muscles burned and her joints creaked as she got to her feet.

"Oof." As she raised her arms to stretch, a smudge of yellow caught her eye. Someone had placed a dragon fruit on her table. That someone had even taken the time to cut it into slices.

She had eaten three of them before she thought to wonder who had left them for her. Robin, perhaps? Her mother? None of the other servants knew enough of her to do more than mark her presence, so it had to be one of them.

Thinking of Robin, she shoved another slice into her mouth before she pulled out the bundle he'd given her.

It was the right shape to be a book—at least in part. But why would he give her a book when they both knew she couldn't read most of the words written in it? And unless something had happened to drastically change their duties and their stations, he wouldn't have any more time to teach her than he did now.

Rynne nibbled on her bottom lip as she weighed her options. Night would fall in not too long, which meant the day would practically be over.

"A day isn't just made of daylight," she muttered, deepening her voice a bit to sound more like her brother. A pretend Robin was better than no Robin.

She shook her head. "But it's called a _day_. A day can't hold a night, can it? That's why there's two words instead of one."

"You're over thinking this."

"Am not."

"Are too."

"Hmph."

Her eyes darted over to the bundle once more. "The day's pretty much over. And I did promise not to open it until the next . . . day." Her shoulders slumped.

"Precisely." She smirked her best Robin smirk.

"Please? Just a little look, and then I promise to leave it alone until tomorrow."

She could see the look he would have given her if he'd been there. All raised eyebrows and uncompromising lines.

Huffing a sigh, she put the bundle back in her bag, put her cloak back on, and slipped out her window. If she had to wait out the night, she was going to do so on her favorite perch.

The stones of the roof were pleasantly warm against the soles of her feet. She scurried across them, weaving through small courtyards over to a forgotten corner. The roof dipped slightly there and the stone tiles hadn't joined quite right, creating a small depression she used to curl up in when she was younger. These days, she mostly still fit—as long as she was sitting upright.

The rooftop was pleasantly quiet, and would be for a few hours yet. The king preferred sunrises to sunsets, and most everyone else had adopted his schedule.

Rynne hummed softly to herself while she tried to guess what else might be in the bundle. Did the book have dragons in it? She'd always loved the heroic sagas of the ancient ones—old even at their first retelling. What would it have been like to be an earth dragon? To form mountains and valleys, jewels and pebbly rocks?

She pulled her cloak more tightly about her shoulders. The sun's light had almost gone, and the slight wintry edge to the air hadn't yet been mellowed by the spring.

When she was younger, she'd dreamed of growing up to be an earth dragon. If she had, she could see Robin and her mother whenever she wanted. She could learn to read, properly. And they'd never have to tip toe through life again.

 _Caw. Caw_.

One of Henry's ravens swooped down, dipping a wing in welcome before landing on her head.

There were times when Rynne wished she'd been allowed to keep her horns.

"I can't come play." She hugged her bag. "I don't want to miss the moon setting."

The raven leaned down so it could look her in the eye.

 _Caw?_

Rynne sighed. She fished the present Robin had given her out of her bag. "I can't open this until then."

 _Caw. Ca-ca-CaW!_

"Because I promised. We can go wyvern watching tomorrow night."

The raven blinked at her, the red sheen of its eyes glinted in the silvery light of the moon that had splashed down from the sky. When it realized she meant what she'd said, it hopped into her lap and began to tear at the string holding the bundle together.

"Hey!" Rynne made a swipe for the bird right as she realized it was actually helping her. She mustn't open it, of course, but Robin hadn't said anything about ravens. She dropped her hand.

"Just be careful. I don't want you to damage anything."

The raven stopped tearing at the string long enough to give her a scornful look. Of course it wouldn't damage anything on accident. Henry's ravens were far more intelligent and capable than all the rest of the birds combined.

"I'll find you a pretty stone tomorrow." She could hardly keep still as the string finally began to split. "The shiniest there is."

The raven nodded its head in acknowledgement. With a final sharp tug, it ripped the string in half. Then, because Rynne hadn't made any move to unwrap the bundle, the raven tugged a corner of the cloth until it fell away completely.

 _Caw-caw_.

"Fine," Rynne said, her attention focused on her gift. "Two shiny stones."

The raven cawed something in reply, but she'd already forgotten it was there. Reverently, she peeled back the rest of the cloth, her eyes growing wide at the unexpected bounty. Robin's gifts had always been wonderful, but this was something else.

She lifted a pale blue pendant and held it up to the moonlight. It shimmered with pearly silvers and lavenders specks wherever the moonlight touched it. She slipped the silver chain over her head and admired it anew.

 _Caw-ca-ca caw?_

"No, you can't have this one." Then, to make her point, she tucked the pendant under her tunic.

The next present was a long sash made of soft, gauzy material that pooled like water, yet hardly weighed more than a cloud. She wrapped it around her shoulders, feeling as though she was wearing the most prized possessions of an ancient dragon's hoard.

The last, and final, present was a small book with an indigo cover inlaid with tiny crystals that sparkled like the night sky. The leather was soft and supple against her fingers and somehow smelled of rain.

Even though she wouldn't be able to read anything, Rynne opened the book anyway. To her surprise, there weren't any words inside, just a detailed illustration of her brother. She brushed her fingertips across it, missing Robin all the more.

"You opened this early, didn't you?"

Rynne jerked her fingers away as though she'd been stung. Her brother's voice. How had—

The picture of her brother tried to look stern, but the corners of his mouth kept curving upward. "You had your fingers crossed when you promised, didn't you?"

Rynne gaped at the book. How had he known?

The picture of Robin shook his head, but he was smiling. "It's all right. I spelled the string so you wouldn't be able to open it too early."

"R-Robin?" Rynne breathed. Was he somehow in the book itself?

Some of the laughter went out of his eyes. "You're probably wondering why I gave you this. In truth, now that I've come of age, I have to leave the castle. And if you're listening to this now, it means I've already gone."

Lightning zinged through Rynne, hot and bright and painful.

"What?" This was a mistake. There had to be a mistake somewhere. Her brother couldn't just—

"I won't be gone forever. I just don't know when I'll be allowed to return."

Allowed to return? What did that mean? She was halfway to her feet when the illustration moved.

The Robin in the book straightened and smiled a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "In the meantime, I have a special quest for you. There is a special stone from ancient times that holds great power. Knowledge of the stone, and the stone itself, have been lost to most everyone. But that's the stone I'm charging you to find. I don't know where it is or what it's called, only that it's there waiting for you to find it. These five gifts will aid you on your quest."

Five gifts? But—

"The stone on the pendant is a worry stone. So whenever you're lonely or scared or anything at all, just hold it and rub the surface with your thumb. Over time, the color should change. Don't forget to do this as often as you can."

Rynne pressed her hand against the small bump in her tunic where she'd tucked the pendant. It was beautiful, but why had her brother thought she'd need something like that?

"Since I won't be there to give you the potion whenever your dragonish parts appear, just wrap the sash around you. It will make those parts invisible to those anyone else." Robin held up his finger as he always did when he wanted her to pay close attention to what he was saying. "Invisible, not insubstantial. They won't see your tail, but you can still whack them with it."

He paused. "You probably shouldn't whack anyone with it."

A great empty hollow feeling pulsed inside her heart. How could Robin have left? And why hadn't he said goodbye?

"The string can be used to fasten things properly. It won't untie for anyone but you."

The raven made a derisive noise before it went back to preening its feathers.

"The cloth is really good at holding things. And as for the book . . . Well, since I won't be able to go with you on your big adventure, this book is the next best thing. Whenever you feel like it, just open the book and talk to it like you're talking to me. I've enchanted it so it will capture your words just as it has captured mine. The book is big enough to hold every adventure you go on. When I get back, I'll have to show you the trick of it."

Rynne's chin trembled as her vision went blurry and her sadness burrowed like a miniature sun into the back of her throat.

"I want to say I'm sorry for not giving you this in person. It was better this way, but I'll miss you. A lot. Please don't forget me, okay?"

"Robin," Rynne whispered. She choked back a sob as a perfect replica of herself faded into view on the page across from Robin's. A tear splashed down on the page, deepening the little dark puddle of inky tears dripping down from her picture.

"He's really gone this time, isn't he?"

Rynne startled. She scooped her treasures back into her bag before she turned around. Tharja and Henry stood a stone's throw away from her. Henry grinned at her as he always did, while Tharja bore a striking resemblance to a storm cloud.

"You knew?" Rynne demanded, more than a little piqued. How was it they knew before she had? She stuffed the sash into her bag.

"Of course," Henry said as though it all made perfect sense. The raven flew up to perch on his shoulder. "Why else would he ask us to help you?"

"H-help me?" Rynne's feet were proving to be as steady as her eyesight. She swallowed another sob as she dashed her tears from her eyes with her sleeve. "I don't need help."

"That's where you're wrong," Tharja said, everything about her sharp and pointed and black. "Now that Robin has left the castle, your time has come as well."

"No it hasn't." Rynne crossed her arms to hold back the giant wall of fire burning up her insides. "I have to—"

"Don't be difficult. Your mother can't hide you any longer, not with Robin gone." Tharja scowled.

"But I—"

"Yeah, and Robin wouldn't let us mess with anyone who came looking for you, so the only option is for you to go."

"What do you mean, mess with?"

Tharja scoffed, her disgust clear. "Make dead. Now are you coming or not?"

A terrible pounding that started in Rynne's heart traveled up to her head. None of what anyone was saying made any sense. Why would Robin leave just like that? Why did she have to leave too? And what about her mother?

"Don't let Robin's leaving be the _CAWS_ for losing your head," Henry laughed.

He was the only one.

Everything swirled into a mess inside her head. Her mother. She needed to talk to her mother. This had to be a trick. There was no way Robin would just vanish on her like this.

Tharja sighed. "Since you intend to be difficult, you have only yourself to blame. We did ask nicely."

Rynne hugged her bag against her chest. Her mother would clear everything up. Make everything better again. With wooden steps, she started back the way she'd come. When she reached the edge of the roof, the air went thick and silent. She only had time to look over her shoulder before the magic streaking from Tharja and Henry's fingers hit her hard enough that everything turned into a blindingly brilliant white.

And then it started fraying to black around the edges.

The echo of Henry's laugh followed her as the darkness swallowed up the light.

Just as Rynne felt herself fading away as well, the magic stopped gnawing on her bones in favor of spitting her out.

She fell with a soft plop into a shallow pond just as the horizon turned gold along the edges.

* * *

A/N: I had some unexpected free time, and this chapter appeared. :) It feels really weird writing a Robin-even a really young Robin-who can talk. When this idea was bouncing around at the back of my cranium, I had no clear idea of when Robin would end up in Ylisse or how, exactly, she'd get there. Hah! Now I know.

I really, really can't wait to play with Robin's presents a little more! She has no idea how . . . interesting . . . some of that stuff is. 0:D

I just want to thank all of you for stopping by, reading, commenting, and sharing. You guys are awesome and I hope you enjoy the journey! Have a great month! :)

* * *

 **WildKat25ShadowWolf13:** Thank you so much! I really appreciate it. :) Yes, Rynne will serve as the Shepherd's tactician. Their battles will be on a different scale-and more grown-ups than Risen to navigate around-but it'll all be good prep work for what is to come in about a decade. :) Yes, this is most definitely a Chrobin story. :D It's just going to be a very slow burn due to their ages. (Falchion is nearly as tall as Chrom is. Not that this stops him from attempting to tie her sheath to his belt whenever he manages to escape Frederick's watchful eye. :p)


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I don't own Fire Emblem. Fire Emblem belongs to Intelligent Systems and Nintendo.**

* * *

There were a great many things Rynne could do. Swimming, however, was not one of them.

She gasped as she hit the cold water.

Panicked when her head went under.

Panicked a little more as the water she'd inhaled burned its way into her lungs.

She was going to die. Robin had sent her off to find new adventures. To discover the magic stone of legend. He had trusted her with this, and here she was, drowning.

The murky water made it hard to see much of anything beyond half shadows and dark splotches obscuring her vision. Her chest burned as though she'd swallowed fire, and her arms and legs had grown strangely heavy.

It was getting harder to think.

Harder to thrash around.

She just wanted to lie down.

Close her eyes . . .

 _No!_

The shout came from deep inside Rynne.

She squeezed her eyes shut and kicked out with her legs. Her feet hit something solid, and she erupted from the water in a froth of strangled gasps and bubbles.

Now that she was no longer in danger of drowning more than halfway, she realized that if she went up on her tip toes, she could keep the important bits of her face above water.

Fixing her gaze on the sky, she made her way toward land. It was a horribly slow thing, tiptoeing through water while the mud at the bottom slurped against her toes. The roots and stalks of the lily pads stood tall, unmoved by her troubles. So she had to navigate around them in a shuffling sort of aquatic dance.

It wasn't until the sky had blushed golds and pinks and blues that she lost her footing. And, rather than ducking back under the water, she landed with a splash along the bank.

Never before had she been so happy to fall onto the ground. The nice, solid, mostly dry ground.

Rynne rolled onto her back so she could watch the sunrise properly. She had always preferred sunsets for their vivid colors, but sunrises were nice too. The sun seemed to creep above the tree line before it grew bold enough to leap into place and declare the beginning of a new day.

The first day upon which she was an adventurer on a quest to find her treasure. Robin would—

Something poked against Rynne's heart as she thought of her brother. He was off having adventures of his own as well. Why couldn't they have gone adventuring together? No dread knight nor villainous villains could have stood against their combined might.

So why had he left without saying goodbye?

Rynne sat up and hugged her knees against her chest. Their mother must be frantic with worry about them, or had she known what Robin had planned? As she thought back to their last conversation, the thing that had been poking her heart now pinched it. She could do nothing more than press her hand against her heart and wait for the pain to pass.

"Oh wow! A mermaid!"

Rynne startled, tripping over herself as she whirled around.

A little girl with golden pigtails was staring at her with open wonder. Now that she saw she had Rynne's attention, she toddled a little closer, her eyes the same color of blue as the sky.

"Are you a real mermaid?"

Rynne frowned in confusion until she noticed the silvery violet sheen of scales clinging to her hands and her tail that peeked out from the hem of her sodden cloak.

"Not exactly, I don't think." Then, because she didn't like to be the cause of the disappointment clouding the little girl's face, "But who knows? I'm wet enough to be a mermaid."

"I'm Lissa." The little girl stuck out a hand that looked to be sticky with something purple that smelled sweet. She held out something soft and stuffed and vaguely green in her other hand. "This is Pickleberry Tart, my magic frog."

Rynne eyed the toy with a little more interest. It looked harmless enough, but maybe that's what magical frogs did to fool the unwary. She had to admit she was completely out of her depth. None of the stories Robin had told her had ever contained magic frogs.

"Well?" Lissa shook her extended hand for emphasis. "You're 'aposed to tell me your name now."

Rynne blinked. "I don't have a name. Not a real one, anyway." Her cheeks burned and she dropped her gaze. No matter how she tried, she could never quite accept that she was too unimportant to have a name of her own.

"Oh." Lissa absently sucked one of her sticky fingers. "What do people call you when they want you to come?"

"Rynne." The word slipped out of her mouth before she had even realized it was there. "My brother is important enough that he let me borrow part of his name." She gave Lissa's hand a dubious look, but shook it anyway.

It was every bit as sticky as she thought it would be.

"You have a brother?"

Rynne nodded as they sat down on a grassy patch of ground. It was strange, really. Back at home, whenever her skin started to glimmer right before the scales appeared, she always ran and hid. But here, with Lissa, she mostly just wondered what the sticky purpleness was.

And if she could find some to eat.

"Do you have a sister? I have a big sister. She bosses everyone around." Lissa cuddled her magic frog with a fierce kind of protectiveness. "But she's usually nice. She even made Pickleberry Tart all by herself."

Rynne eyed the stuffed frog with a touch more respect. Was it magical by nature, or was it magical because Lissa believed it was?

"So . . ." Lissa bounced in place a few times. "How did you swim up to the sky? Mermaids are 'aposed to live in water, aren't they?"

The sky? It took Rynne a moment to realize what the little girl was talking about. There had been a moment between Plegia and the pond. Perhaps—

"Lissa! Lissa!"

Rynne startled, snapping her head in the direction the voice was coming from.

"That's just my big brother," Lissa said, her eyes lighting up. "Hey! I bet he'd want to meet you. Emm and Nana and Freddy never let us have interesting visitors. I'll go get him."

Rynne watched helplessly as the little girl jumped to her feet and took off running in the direction of her brother, shouting his name. Her heart banged hard enough against her chest to almost hurt. What should she do? Where should she go?

Then she remembered one of her brother's gifts, and hoped it didn't have to be dry to work.

With a speed born of desperation, Rynne flew up into the branches of the nearest tree before wrapping the sash about herself. It clung to her and was freezing cold, but she didn't dare try to wring it out. The voices were getting closer, and she clasped her hands together as she tried to make herself as small as possible.

A hard little knot of something pressed against her knees. The pendant! Holding her breath, Rynne tugged it out of her tunic and proceeded to rub her thumb against it as she tried to quiet her breathing.

"Liss, Emm isn't going to be happy if we're late."

"But don't you want to see the mermaid?"

The boy sighed as they came into view. He was gangly with a mop of dark blue hair and a suit that looked as though it had seen better days. It was clean, pressed, and mended, but there was a weary air about it—especially around the knees. "Are you certain it's a mermaid? You know they're just imaginary things, right? Like from the stories."

Lissa stopped walking and put her hands on her hips. "You take that back! My friend is so real!"

To his credit, the boy seemed more amused than anything. He gave one of her pigtails an affectionate tug. "All right. So where is this mermaid friend of yours?"

"Over here. She's . . ." Lissa's face fell. "She was right here."

Rynne held her breath and continued to polish her worry stone with her thumb. She hated to know she was the cause of crestfallen expression on Lissa's face, but she couldn't risk being discovered any more than she already had been.

"Maybe her big sister had an important meeting she had to attend and called her back." The boy gave his little sister a pointed look that was totally wasted because she wasn't even looking at him.

Instead, Lissa stood by the bank of the pond, frowning at the water as though she could make her mermaid appear through the sheer force of her will.

"She was right here, Chrom. I promise. You believe me, don't you?"

Her brother Chrom, crouched down and examined the ground. "Hmm. There _was_ something here." He traced his finger above the grooves her tail had left in the soil. "Are you sure it was a fish? Because this looks like a kind of claw mark. Too small to be a bear, but bigger than one of Cookie's cats."

Lissa turned to him with affronted dignity. "Chrom, I know what mermaids look like."

"Because you've seen so many of them," he said. He didn't exactly roll his eyes. He'd started to, but the marks he'd been examining caught his attention again.

"She. Had. A. Tail." Lissa enunciated each word. "And scales on her hands and face."

"Of course," he muttered, frowning. His gaze flickered toward her tree, and for a panicked second, Rynne was certain he could see her. But then his gaze turned back to the ground, and Rynne found she could breathe again.

"Chrom," Lissa said as she crouched down next to her brother, cuddling Pickleberry Tart mercilessly. "What if she's in trouble? Or hurt? What if she needs our help?"

Rynne squirmed a little inside. She couldn't reveal herself, not while she still had a tail and a liberal smattering of scales on her hands and face.

"I'll ask Frederick for help. Mermaid or not, he won't leave a stone unturned. If there's a mermaid on the grounds, he'll find her." Chrom stood and held out his hand. "So long as you're the one who gets to tell Emm we were late thanks to your mermaid friend."

Lissa slipped her hand into his, all her cares vanquished by the faith she had in her older brother. Rynne recognized the look as she had often worn one that was quite similar. She could never seek him out when others were there, but her fears were always tempered by the sure knowledge that there was nothing so big that Robin wouldn't be able to defeat it.

So why had he gone somewhere she couldn't follow?

Rynne waited until they had gone from sight, and then she waited some more. Only after she was shivering so hard from the cold wetness of, well, everything, that she would have attracted attention either way, did she dare to jump down from the tree.

Her wings had gone, but she managed to land without hurting herself. Now that she was on the ground, a whole new set of problems opened themselves up for her. Henry and Tharja had sent her here, so that's probably where they wanted her to stay.

But how was she supposed to stay put in a place like this?

It wasn't until she'd stumbled over the drying lines and the promise of warm, dry clothes, that she realized she looked no more like a dragon than Lissa did.

Humming happily to herself, she pilfered an apron and a simple gown that was more like a long tunic. Rynne had no idea how she'd managed it, but she hadn't needed one of Robin's potions to draw the dragon back inside her.

If she did it once, certainly she could do it again.

And once she got good at it, she'd never have to hide ever again.

Before she could fall too far into contentment, her stomach growled loud enough that perhaps her stomach was still more dragon than human.

What to do?

It had been a while since she'd last eaten, and she had no coin nor right of meal like she did when she'd been a servant back in Plegia. She'd give this gown back once her clothing was dry, but she couldn't do the same with any food she might come across.

As though it was sentient enough to know it had her attention, her stomach went over a rather lengthy list of grievances, each grumble louder than the rest.

"Fine. Fine," she muttered. Maybe she could offer to spin for someone in exchange for a meal. She wrapped her things up in the sash and tied the bundle up in her tree. She'd come back for it later. For now, she needed to find something to eat.

Rynne hurried up the path toward the castle. Castles were big. The one standing tall against the sky was even bigger than the one in Plegia. Big meant more people. More servants, especially.

She could be a servant. Why if she—

"Oof!"

Somewhere between this step and the next, something large and solid appeared in her path without warning. Ricocheting off it, she landed in what might very possibly be a flowerbed. Rynne lay there like a crushed insect, waiting for her body to remember how to breathe again.

"Oh dear. Oh dear. I'm so sorry. Please be all right."

"Give her some breathing room, Kellam."

That voice.

Rynne tried to turn toward it, but too much hurt too much, and her head was spinning so hard that up seemed more like a suggestion and down more of a command.

There was a scuffling sound as someone knelt beside her. "I bet Emm could fix her up."

"Prince Chrom, I'm so sorry. I didn't see her until . . ."

"Hmm. Are you sure you knocked her down? She looks like she's just sleeping."

Chrom. That was Lissa's big brother's name.

"I highly doubt this lass decided to sleep among the Exalt's lilies, Milord," a deeper voice that managed to sound both polite and very much put upon said. "There are, after all, much better places to sleep than on the ground."

"Right. You, um, don't think she's . . . You know . . ."

"Dead, Milord?" The voice changed to equal parts amused and exasperated.

"No. She can't be . . . That would make me a—"

"Hardly. She's holding up as well as anyone might who had charged into someone wearing full armor."

Gentle, but firm hands propped her up. The weight pressing down on her lungs abruptly vanished, and Rynne found she was suddenly famished for air.

"Slow and steady breaths, lass." A boy who was practically a grown up exaggerated his own breathing enough for her to follow.

Rynne opened her eyes and obediently tried to slow her breathing. It wasn't easy. Her body was still convinced it couldn't get enough air, while the air she was inhaling burned its way down her throat and into her lungs.

It was like drowning all over again.

"Slower, if you can."

Lissa's brother crouched down next to her, an open smile on his face. "Sorry about that. Kellam has a special talent for being easy to miss, so that's probably why you didn't see him. You'll be okay though. My big sister can fix anything. You can meet her if you like."

"Milord," the older boy said, exasperated but without any true rancor.

"Emm won't mind. She told me so herself after that thing with Sully." He turned his attention back to her. "She's really nice. I promise."

Rynne nodded. Her breathing was almost back to normal, and her head was spinning only half as fast as it had been before. And she could almost make out a boy-shaped rectangle of shining metal in the direction Chrom had indicated when he'd explained about Kellam.

When the almost visible boy noticed her watching him, he gave her a shy wave. When she waved back, he ducked his head and became nearly impossible to see.

"I'm Chrom. You've already met Kellam, and this is Frederick." He looked at her expectantly, and she realized he was waiting for her to introduce herself.

She stood and shook her borrowed skirts out. No one back home had ever thought to ask, but after her run in with Lissa earlier, she knew exactly what to do. "I don't have a name, but you can call me Rynne."

"Rynne? I've never heard a name like that before. Is it foreign?"

Rynne's cheeks went pink, and Frederick shook his head.

"Milord, a more pressing line of questioning would be to inquire what a kitchen maid is doing in the royal family's garden."

Frederick had the sort of personality that seemed to take up more space than it rightly should have. It wasn't that he was mean, because she was fairly certain he wasn't. Despite his deferential tone to Chrom, he was clearly the one in charge.

Even though Chrom was a prince.

Belatedly, Rynne remembered to curtsey. Except, she wasn't used to wearing skirts that were so heavy and voluminous, and her gown was made for a slightly bigger person.

"I was looking for the kitchen," she said, finding safety in the truth. "But I got lost and then . . ." She mimed smashing something.

"I really am sorry." Kellam's voice, while soft, was easier to make out than his form. "Usually I pay better attention to where I'm going. I kind of have to."

"You're new then," Frederick said in a tone of voice that implied something in the situation was finally making sense.

Rynne nodded. A blush crept up the back of her neck. Nothing she'd said had been a lie, but it hadn't been exactly the truth either. What would Robin have done in her place?

Frederick's expression thawed just enough for her to be certain that he was, indeed, human. "That's easy enough to fix. I'll return you to the kitchen myself. It wouldn't do for you to be found wandering within the Royal family's personal gardens."

She nodded and dropped her gaze. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be where I'm not supposed to."

Frederick nodded. "Follow me, then."

"Wait." Chrom caught Rynne by the sleeve. "I promised I'd take her to Emm."

"I'm fine." Rynne ducked her head. This truly was a different place from home, and she wasn't sure how she felt about those differences. But Tharja would never do anything to upset Robin—like sending his little sister to . . . wherever here was, if it wasn't a good place to be.

Chrom looked her in the eye. "You're certain? Most people need a healer after they run into Kellam."

"I really am sorry."

"Most people only ever run into Kellam on the training field, Milord. Speaking of which . . ." All Frederick had to do was raise a brow for Chrom to let go of her arm and back away.

"We're going. We're going. Race you there, Kellam." He looked over his shoulder before he took off after his friend. "See you later!"

Frederick waited long enough to make sure his two charges were going where they were supposed to before he turned back to her. "I suppose we had better get you back where you belonged well."

Rynne nodded as she tried to keep up with the older boy's stride. Hopefully the kitchens were as chaotic as her morning had been. What was she going to do if they realized she didn't really belong here?

In all the stories Robin had told her, the hero was always big and powerful, so much so that he was left well enough alone until the villain appeared with a cursed blade to plunder his home. But she wasn't big or brave or strong.

She was just herself.

"I don't think I've seen you before." Frederick raised his brow at her, and Rynne had a sudden empathy for why Chrom had hurried away. She would have too, if he'd have let her.

"I just got here this morning." Her voice only trembled a little, and she hid a grimace. Her truths were all coming out as lies, and while being clever and cunning always served a hero well, lies only ever turned into a web that led to madness.

Rynne didn't like to think what would happen should she go mad.

"You came with your family?"

She shook her head.

"Hmm. You're a little young to have been sent here on your own." Frederick's brow darkened. "But I suppose that is to be expected."

He didn't say anything else until they reached the kitchens. To Rynne's relief, the main kitchen was bubbling with activity. A few with their hair tied back neatly and stuffed into caps or kerchiefs seemed to be doing most of the cooking. A number of people were involved in peeling, slicing, mixing, and stirring, while a greater number of people who wore similar attire to herself were running errands, fetching ingredients, cleaning up spots and spills, and washing dishes.

She waded in after Frederick, her heart much lighter. There were too many moving parts for anyone to remember them individually. Although the way Frederick looked around as though performing an inspection, and the deferential way everyone in the room greeted him, perhaps she wouldn't escape unscathed after all.

"Charlotte," he addressed a harried-looking woman who had a few strands of silver frosting her earth brown hair. Frederick put a firm hand on Rynne's shoulder when she tried to hang back halfway behind him. "I found one of yours wandering in the Exalt's garden."

Rynne held her breath as the woman squinted near-sightedly at her. "My apologies, Sir Frederick. I misplaced my spectacles and didn't find them until the custard finished setting. Which is, I suppose, a mercy. Better to find them at all, rather than after we'd served them in the dessert."

Rynne hid a giggle behind her hand. She had always kept to herself back home, so she didn't know how the important people were served, but surely the last thing they might expect would be for their dessert to be looking back at them.

"Yes, well," Sir Frederick drew himself up into a pillar of dignified propriety, "it would do us all well to keep better track of both your spectacles and those under your care." He looked very much as though he'd like to go on, but had boxed himself into a corner by his own decorum.

"And so I shall." Charlotte twinkled a smile at Rynne that was both warm and welcoming. "I thank you for her safe re—Oh, no you don't, young Vaike! Unhand those pineapples at once!"

Frederick sighed as she rushed off to apprehend the pineapple thief. Rynne did her best to be the smallest self she could possibly be, but he was the sort of person not even a speck of dust could hide from.

He looked down at her and sighed again. "I don't suppose you have received any training?"

Rynne opened her mouth, the easy lie already on the tip of her tongue. Then she thought of Robin and all the heroes he'd told her about. Cunning was all well and good, and very much required if one was going to set forth on important quests.

Lying though? That's what those iron clad villains did.

And Rynne was not one of those. Not now. Not ever.

She shook her head. "I'm a fast learner."

For some reason, her statement thawed a bit more humanity into his expression. "I'm sure you'll make your family proud. Now, if you're certain you'll be all right, I have charges of my own I must attend to."

Rynne forced herself to nod.

To smile.

But she found it a little hard to breathe.

She hadn't known Sir Frederick for very long, and she would have been lying if she said she wasn't just the teensiest bit afraid of him, but he was familiar. And—she stepped back as a flock of chickens gusted by—the single bastion of quiet and sanity in the entire room.

But when she looked again, he was gone.

"Not that way!" A servant a little older than she was ran by, brandishing a broom. "Back out into the coop, you bird brains!"

Rynne watched long enough to determine three things. The first was that the chickens had the advantage in numbers. The second was that the girl with the broom had no hope of shooing the birds anywhere beyond the kitchens. And the third thing was a small bucket of some kind of grain that was sitting open on one of the sideboards.

When she was quite certain that no one else was going to lend a hand, Rynne stood on her tiptoes and scooped some of the grain into her apron. Treading softly, she made her way over to where most of the chickens had congregated—which happened to be where they stored the wood cut for burning.

Rather than appeal to them directly, she grabbed a handful of grain from her apron and let it run through her fingers as she marked out the most likely path in which the chicken coops were located.

Walking slowly, she kept careful control on how much grain she let slip through her fingers. It wouldn't do to run out before she reached her destination, nor would it be good to allow the birds too much grain either.

The chickens descended on her trail of grain as though they hadn't seen a speck of food for the last fortnight. Fortunately she was nearly to the side door.

Almost there . . .

. . .

. . .

And finished.

Rynne straightened and dusted her hands off. Only after the last chicken had squawked its way out the door did she step back to admire her handiwork. They stood on a long rectangle of sweet smelling grass. While it wasn't exactly the chicken coops, it was close enough—and more importantly, not the kitchen.

"Whew!" The girl who'd been chasing the chickens earlier appeared in the doorway. "I didn't think it would be possible to get them all out so quickly. Thank you."

"You're welcome," Rynne said. "They're a lot easier to herd than baby wyverns, that's for sure."

The girl blinked at her before grinning and holding out her hand. "I'm Marigold."

"Rynne." She shook Marigold's hand, happy that these foreign customs felt a little less odd each time they happened. People were a lot more open here than back at home, and Rynne was surprised to find that she didn't mind as much anymore.

"I haven't seen you before. Are you new?"

Rynne shrank a little beneath the friendly scrutiny. "Yes. I arrived here today."

"Don't worry." Marigold smiled apologetically. "The chickens don't invade the kitchens as much as they used to."

She wasn't sure what to say to that. Was it normal chicken behavior to seek out the kitchens? It wasn't back home, that's for sure. Speaking of . . .

Rynne opened her mouth to ask where they were, but she couldn't figure out a way to ask without betraying her position.

"You'll get the hang of things soon," Marigold promised. "Want to help me beat some cream to go along with the scones?"

Rynne nodded solemnly. As she followed the other girl back into the kitchens, she paused at the threshold and looked over her shoulder at the rich green land blooming outside.

Why had Robin sent her here instead of coming along? He would have loved it, she was sure. Well, maybe not the chickens, but he would have liked everything else.

For a moment, her heart became unbearably heavy. Then she remembered the book he'd given her. Hopefully nearly drowning hadn't damaged the enchantment. As soon as the sun set, she'd find a place to sleep.

And then, because her brother couldn't be there with her, she'd bring as much of it as she could to him.

And maybe, maybe one day he'd be able to slip away and find her.

Something like warmth filled her chest as she stepped back into the friendly chaos of the kitchens. Today was the first full day of her quest. She had a lot of catching up to do, but she hadn't done too terribly either.

Now, to beat some cream—whatever that meant—and then to see if she could find any of that purple stickiness to eat.

And perhaps, just maybe, she might have found a friend.

* * *

A/N: This chapter was a lot of fun to write. And, yay! We made it on time! :D

Kellam popped up out of nowhere, literally, and while I hadn't set out to include much of anything from the game, Robin and Chrom's first conversation just fit. Also, now I know where Chrom got that line of his. :p

As for the chickens, I'm not sure where they come from or why, only that Miriel and Ricken are behind this somehow. Should be fun figuring out.

I kind of love that half drowned weredragon translates into mermaid—at least as far as Lissa is concerned. Rynne isn't of the hook there either, although I have a feeling that Lissa is going to be a little disappointed that Rynne is more draco than mer. But nobody's perfect, right? :p

A special thanks to all you who stop by, read, comment, share, etc. A story never truly breathes until it is read. Thank you for helping this story come alive. Have a great month!

* * *

 **TaraTolmney:** Aww, thank you so much! I really glad you liked Henry and Tharja. :) They'll be back. Hopefully soon. It's going to be a lot of fun when those two worlds—Plegia and Ylisse—collide! *early apologies to Rynne* Have a great month! :D


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